These Ties That Bind
by itsjustafantasyfortwo
Summary: Kurtbastian AU Slave!Fic. Kurt is taken into The Institute at age 12, after a horrible car accident kills both his parents He now was only one choice: to face life as a Companion. All of his expectations get shattered, though, when he gets bought as a birthday gift for one Sebastian Smythe.


These Ties that Bind – Chapter One

**A/N: **New story y'all! Don't fret, I've not forgotten my other story (even though I haven't updated in absolutely AGES - but I haven't been in the right place to write for a while) and you can probably see an update for that one soon! Anyways, this is for the lovely Ruthie, who wouldn't give up until I actually wrote her something.

* * *

Before I begin, there's one thing you should know about this tale: It is absolutely, positively **not **a love story. Until it is.

* * *

_He'd been expecting this._

He_ had_ turned 17 almost four weeks ago, 25 days to be exact. The morning goes by in what seems not even a minute - the rousing alarm, waking in his tiny bedroom for what would be the very last time. Kurt barely remembers breakfast, and he _definitely_ doesn't remember getting dressed, but finds himself wearing a blue oxford shirt and plain jeans, brown hair coiffed artfully in his usual style. He does, however, remember the nurse coming into his room and sticking him with a needle, extracting a tiny vial of pure, red blood. '_For the ritual'_, his mind supplies.

What stays in Kurt's mind for the whole morning though, is the moment when his Handler binds a crimson ribbon tight around his neck, almost too tight. A ribbon that would most likely stay around his neck until the day he died.

He'd been told this day was coming for years, ever since he had been taken in to The Institute at the tender age of 12, when both his parents had tragically died in a car crash. He'd been prepared for his life outside of The Institute, taught how to act, what to say, what to do, how to please, **everything **he'd need to know. As far as everyone else was concerned, he was ready.

Before Kurt had even realised it, 12 O'clock had arrived, and he's being escorted out of the medicinally white walls of The Institute - presumably forever. He's guided through the Refectory, feet unsteady as he feels everyone's eyes on him; staring doe-eyed at the ruby coloured piece of fabric collared around his neck. The slim boy visibly pales as he tries to drown out the buzz of murmurs from the people around him, whispers of "_I wonder how much he'll go for?"_ and "_I bet someone'll pay a bundle for him, have you seen his ass? And his skin, he's flawless_".

Bright sunlight permeates the room as the Warden unlatches the doors that lead outside, a sight that was rare to behold as most of the boys and girls here were rarely let outdoors. The light made the clinical looking room reverberate with brightness, with a seeming hope that wasn't there at all. At least not for Kurt, who was never to return to the safety of the four walls he had lived in for the past five years. As much as he regretted to think, Kurt would miss this place. He just hoped that the horror stories people told about his future weren't true.

The next half an hour was a blur, spent travelling in the back of a car, pristine white just like the rest of The Institute, down busy roads and highways that all blended together. Melanie, his handler sits straight up next to him, a small briefcase on her lap containing all of Kurt's documents - medical records and the like, and the small blood sample taken that morning. She would accompany him to The Bureau; where he would be brought before - _well, they called him The Judge_ – and sold off to the highest bidder. Today was the day he was to become a Companion.

Though fully clothed, Kurt feels naked in front of the crowd of people, everyone bustling about to get the best look at him. He's first up to be auctioned and the nerves he'd tried to hide, push into the back of his mind are front and centre. As The Judge starts to talk about him and his past, Kurt swallows harshly and attempts to stop himself from visibly shaking. Melanie shoots him a sad smile from the side of the room along with some sort of gesture that tells him to slow down his breathing as he's currently well on his way to gasping for air. Then he hears it: "_Shall we start the bidding at ten thousand?_"

_Ten thousand dollars._

_Then fifteen._

_Twenty._

_One hundred thousand._

Kurt's mind swirls as the amounts bid go higher and higher, until suddenly –

"**One million dollars!"**

There were audible gasps around the room as everybody craned their necks to look at the bidder. Even The Judge looked shocked at the price that the man had offered for Kurt. In all his years in this job, he barely ever sees the bidding go anywhere near this figure, especially on a boy.

"Any-" He coughs out "Any advance on the bid by Mr-?"

"Smythe," the bidder offers.

The room is so silent you could hear a pin drop.

"He's yours, Mr Smythe." The Judge states calmly, and Kurt is escorted off the platform he had been standing on, limbs feeling like jelly. _One million dollars._ Someone had paid a million dollars for _him_. Kurt turns to look at the man; he's tall and well built, his hair slightly greying as is so common for a man in his 40's. But he doesn't look at all enamoured with Kurt, there's no lust in his eyes, which compared to most of the other men– and some women in the room - was quite strange. Why spend so much money on a slave you didn't even _want?_

Ten minutes later, Kurt is ushered into a small room. It housed only a mahogany table and two matching chairs. A large white candle and a glass bowl filled with a swirling silver liquid, along with a box of matches stood on the table. _This is where The Ritual will take place_, he thinks.

After a few minutes, Mr Smythe strolls into the room, accompanied by The Judge, who oversees all the Rituals in the area. Removing a small vial of blood from his suit jacket pocket, the man carefully places it on the table, next to where the judge is placing the vial of Kurt's own blood.

Then the Ritual begins: First the candle is lit, lighting up the room in an eerie glow, the flames dancing along the dark magenta of the walls. Then both vials of blood are carefully poured into the silver liquid, shimmering in the light of the candle as they swirl together. The Judge utters words, almost inaudible, that Kurt cannot understand – spelling the blood to mix and intertwine within the silk-like substance within the bowl. A single drop of the concoction is dotted onto his collar, right on the knot, and the Ritual is complete.

_Kurt is now bound._

_He no longer belongs to himself. Not anymore._

* * *

_He should've been expecting this._

But Sebastian didn't think twice when the doctor took an extra vial of blood for his mandatory blood-test sample that month. He didn't pay attention when his parents were muttering to themselves about paying for something or other – they were always buying something they didn't need. A yacht in Monaco, a holiday home in the South of France, and the flashy sports car they had just bought his brother for passing his Bar exam to practice law. The Smythe's weren't short on money, not at all, with his father being the property magnate he was, and his mother an Orthopaedic Surgeon with her own private practice. You could even say they were 'swimming in it' to coin a phrase.

Today was the day of Sebastian's 18 birthday.

He'd only just walked into the house, shrugging off his school blazer and loosening his tie – when he was basically ambushed by both of his parents. His mother was hugging him fiercely - while his father, not being the most tactile of men clapped him on the shoulder with a "Happy birthday, son. They'd both taken the day off work, never missing one of their children's birthdays, not even once. As his parents began to usher him out of the foyer and into the lounge, two small arms latched themselves around his legs, accompanied with a mop of brown curls and a tiny giggle. "_Happy birthday, Sebby!" _his sister Emilie squeaks, in the loudest voice a six year old girl can muster.

Later, after cake, candles, and an embarrassing rendition of "_Happy Birthday" _in which his sister sang three times while dancing around him in a circle, much to the enjoyment of their parents – it was time for Sebastian to open his presents. His brother had sent his apologies at not being able to make it, along with a brand new Breitling watch that Sebastian had been hinting at for about a month to his mother. Meanwhile, Emilie had presented him with a gigantic drawing (in crayon of course) of him and her at the park, and a princess tiara with a large, flashing 18 on it ("_Because they didn't have any prince crowns at the store, Sebby, and I looked __**everywhere!**__"_)

When it comes to his parent's present, Sebastian sees them both give each other a strange look, before his father stands, almost abruptly. "We couldn't exactly wrap your present this year, son," he states, before shooting the 18 year old a knowing smile, "So it's up in your room." Mrs Smythe gestures to Sebastian, and then to the door, "Go ahead honey, it's a very special present this year, so we hope you like it," She adds in.

Sebastian climbs the stairs carefully, a million ideas running through his head, dismissing them one by one. A Computer? _He already had one of those._ A pet? _Allergies. _They couldn't have got him the watch he wanted because Andrew had already given him that – _Wait._ _Didn't Blaine say it was customary to get a companion at 18?_ No. They wouldn't. They knew he didn't-

_But what if they did?_

He hesitantly swings the door to his bedroom open; eyes immediately snapping to the figure of the boy knelt delicately at the foot of his bed.

_And oh, he was beautiful._

The crimson ribbon bound around his neck contrasts perfectly with his skin, the colour of the finest porcelain. With a perfectly ethereal, almost ghost-like grace, the boy looks up to meet Sebastian's eyes. Letting out a breath he didn't even know he was holding, Sebastian stared at the slender boy, eyes piercingly blue, filled with fear and the slightest glint of defiance. And he couldn't look away.

_Because now the boy belonged to him._


End file.
